


About Time

by telperion_15



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Anniversary, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've reached an anniversary, although Michael's completely unaware of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Time

**Author's Note:**

> Written for luninosity, to celebrate her one-year fandom anniversary.

James has been giving him sideways looks all day. Not the bad kind – they’re not worried or sad or bewildered. Rather, they’re amused, accompanied by small smiles that say James has a secret, one he likes. One that involves Michael.

They’re driving Michael _nuts_ , more so than the ache in his neck from the heavy helmet on his head, more so than Jennifer’s apparent inability to remember her lines today, and more so than the wind that is driving the sand into his face and into every tiny gap in his jumpsuit.

So when Matthew finally calls a halt for lunch, he lifts off the helmet with a sigh of relief and immediately beckons to James, who picks himself up off the sand and comes willingly.

“Yes?”

“James, I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, we do?”

“We _do_ ,” Michael confirms. “Come on.”

“Okay.”

They trudge round the beach together, Michael handing off the helmet to a passing prop master and trying to ignore that James is once more giving him those looks, as if he’s finding something incredibly amusing that everyone else, including Michael, is completely missing.

Their temporary trailers are clustered together out of sight of the cameras behind a clump of palm trees, and when he sees them Michael thinks longingly of showers, and washing away chafing, itchy sand.

But they’re filming again after lunch, and Michael knows that, even if he does get rid of the dratted stuff, it’ll take great glee in insinuating itself into every nook and cranny again within five minutes of them returning to the beach. So there’s really not much point in even starting a battle he can’t yet win.

And besides, right now there are more important things. Like James. And his secret.

He hustles James into his trailer ahead of him, and then plants himself in front of the closed door – he’s not letting James out of here until he’s discovered what’s going on, he’s decided, filming schedule be damned.

“Okay, James, spill.”

James gives him a wide-eyed, innocent look that’s rather spoiled by the smile playing around his lips. “What?”

“You’ve been watching me all day! Looking at me like…like…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it putting you off?” James asks, saving Michael from having to come up with the end of that sentence, the only options he can think of rather damning.

“Yes!” It’s hard enough trying to deal with Erik Lehnsherr’s angst and self-righteousness without James distracting him.

Not that James doesn’t distract him quite a lot anyway, but it’s not normally so _deliberate_.

“Well, in that case, I _am_ sorry, then,” James says, turning suddenly serious. “I really didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” Michael says, although he’s not sure if it is. Then, when James doesn’t say anything else, he adds, rather pointedly, “So, are you going to tell me what it was all about or not?”

“Oh! Yes, I suppose so. I was going to wait until tomorrow, as that seemed more appropriate, but it would be mean to keep you in suspense now, so…”

“James…” Michael warns.

“Yes, right, so…let me ask you a question. What is tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday, James.”

“Okay, yes, it’s Saturday. Top marks for knowing the days of the week. But what else is it?”

Michael narrows his eyes in frustration. He’s not really in the mood for guessing games right now. “It’s also our day off,” he says, although right now he’s wondering whether he can’t persuade Matthew to schedule some retakes instead – it would almost be worth losing his own precious spare time to punish James for all this prevaricating.

“Correct again,” James replies. Then he obviously notices Michael’s mounting exasperation, and hurries to add, “And that will become relevant a bit later, I promise. But the most important thing about tomorrow is it’s an anniversary.”

“An anniversary of what?”

“Of the day we met. You know, at the audition read-through, when they were trying to find the right person to play Erik. That was six months ago tomorrow.”

Huh. Michael thinks back. James might actually be right. It must be about six months since that day. Although it feels like it’s been much more than that. Or should that be much less? The days of filming have flown by – faster than Michael’s used to, if he’s honest – but at the same time he feels like he’s know James forever.

Although that could be because…

“James, we had met before that day,” Michael points out. “I distinctly recall an incident involving Vespas, at the very least. And ‘Band of Brothers’, remember that?”

“Yes, but those weren’t the same,” James proclaims. “We were only acquaintances then. Now we’re more than that. Don’t you think?” He suddenly looks worried, as if not sure Michael will agree.

“Of course we are!” All Michael’s frustration leeches away in the face of James’ uncertainty. How could James think they were still nothing more than acquaintances? They’re so much more than that.

“Oh, good.” Relief washes across James’ face, quickly followed by a return of the secretive smile that has been making Michael crazy all day.

But now that he’s looking closer, Michael can see that there’s a hint of nervousness underneath it, like James is working up the courage for something. Like he’s not sure if the secret he has is actually a secret, or just a wild imagining.

“James, what is it?”

“Well, I was thinking that, since it’s our six-month anniversary and all, it’s about time we…went on a date.”

The last four words come out in such a rush that it takes Michael’s brain a few seconds to actually process them.

“What?”

“You know, a date,” James says. “Drinks, maybe dinner, something like that. It is our day off, after all – we could do all sorts of things.”

“James, you think we’re…that we’ve been…all this time?” Michael’s flailing a bit – could he really have been so oblivious? Has he really missed something so monumental when it’s been right in front of him the whole time?

“Of course I don’t,” James says. “Not enough physical contact for that, for a start.”

Michael suddenly flashes back to every instance where he’d managed to find some excuse to touch James when he didn’t need to, every time he’d let his hand linger a bit too long on James’ shoulder or arm or waist. It had been too much, he knew, but at the same time not nearly enough.

Except that apparently it hadn’t been enough for James either, and Michael really has been completely _blind_.

“And you know what, apparently I’ve totally misread this situation,” James gabbles out suddenly, and Michael realises that he hasn’t actually given James any kind of answer. Or said anything at all, in fact, for at least thirty seconds. “You don’t feel the same, that’s fine, now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to get the hell out of here and go and find a corner to die of embarrassment in.”

Of course, then James realises that he can’t leave, because Michael’s still standing in front of the door.

And he’s still not planning on letting James out of here any time soon.

“Er, excuse me…”

“James,” Michael blurts desperately. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Oh, you would?”

“Of _course_ I would. Drinks, dinner, even a damn goodnight kiss. Anything you like.”

James’ smile is brighter than the most blinding sunshine, and Michael feels relief flood through him. He hasn’t completely ruined this.

“And I’m sorry for not realising sooner. I mean, I know what _I_ felt, but I didn’t notice…damn, how could I not have _noticed_?”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just happy you’re saying yes.” Then James blinks. “What _you_ felt? You mean…?”

“Oh god, James, I’ve been in love with you for months.” Michael is powerless to stop the confession from tumbling out. “I just never thought…”

“Michael,” James says, very seriously, “do we have to wait until we say good-night?”

“…what?”

“Only, I think I’d like to kiss you right now.”

“ _James_ ,” Michael says, helpless. “You can kiss me whenever you like.”

James fits against him perfectly, he thinks, as James throws himself into Michael’s arms. God, why have they waited this long? Six months. Six wasted _months_.

The knock on the trailer door could not be timed worse, and James makes a muffled sound of disappointment that Michael attempts to kiss right out of his mouth.

But then there’s another knock, and a voice says, “Mr Fassbender, are you in there? I need to check over your costume before shooting resumes,” and James laughs this time and unwinds his arms from around Michael’s neck.

“You’d better let her in,” James says, smiling cheekily, and Michael wonders whether, if they were very, very quiet, the wardrobe girl wouldn’t realise they were in here, and then he could do unspeakable things to James when she leaves.

Unfortunately, she seems to the annoyingly persistent kind of wardrobe girl, and knocks for a third time. “Mr Fassbender? I really am sorry to disturb you, but I do need to check that costume.”

“Tomorrow night, seven-thirty,” Michael says quickly. “I’ll pick you up.”

“We are staying in the same hotel, we could just meet in the lobby,” James points out, amused.

“It’s our first date, we’re doing it properly,” Michael tells him. “I’ll pick you up.”

“All right. But I’ll be expecting flowers next.”

“What kind do you like?” Michael asks, before realising that James was probably joking.

James chuckles, and then steps into Michael’s space again. “I don’t need flowers,” he says quietly. “Just you.” Then he grins. “Now, hadn’t you better open the door before that poor girl starts to wonder what nefarious things you’re getting up to in here?”

His expression indicates that he’s rather like Michael to be getting up to nefarious things, and it takes everything Michael has to turn away and open the door instead of jumping on James right then and there.

The wardrobe girl looks a bit startled when Michael suddenly appears, but to her credit, recovers herself quickly in the face of Michael’s somewhat unfriendly stare. “Oh, you are in here. Sorry, this won’t take a minute…” Then she spots James. “Oh, Mr McAvoy’s here too. I think Lindsey’s been looking for you – she’s over in the wardrobe trailer if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“Of course not,” James says, and stands aside to let the wardrobe girl into the trailer before slipping out past Michael. “Seven-thirty,” he murmurs in a voice low enough so that she doesn’t hear. “I’ll be waiting. Oh, and by the way? I love you, too.”

Michael stares after him for several moments until the girl nervously clears her throat behind him. He makes an effort to smile as he turns back to her, but doesn’t really hear word she says as she fusses over his costume, checking for damage and issues.

After six lost months, he now has only a day to plan the perfect date.

And it has to be _perfect_. James deserves nothing less.

He needs to get cracking.


End file.
